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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870817">being the lucky ones (isn't always good)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalMercy/pseuds/WhimsicalMercy'>WhimsicalMercy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MCYT December except it's not festive [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>2020 L'Manberg Election on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Emperor Philza, Gen, L'Manberg War of Independence on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Lots of talk about death, Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Floris | Fundy, Mentioned Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Minecraft Manhunt, Prince Technoblade, Prince TommyInnit, Prince Wilbur Soot, The only person who actually dies in the text are Schlatt and Wilbur, Video Game Mechanics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:47:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870817</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalMercy/pseuds/WhimsicalMercy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>There wasn’t a way to predict it, it wasn’t a science. It was based on chances and how people died and how many times they had died before and when and- It was based on everything anyone could think of. There was no way to predict when someone would stop respawning or if the respawn would take longer than before. Sometimes respawn took one minute, other times it took a month. Generally, anything over a month was assumed as permanent deaths and treated as such, but there had been cases of people respawning after years. Respawn terrified most people because there was no guarantee. If they died from something dumb like stepping on a berry bush or if they died in battle, there wasn’t a way to promise their return. The universe could be the kindest being or it could be the cruelest.<br/></p>
</blockquote>The universe was a cruel mistress, one that liked to play games. Dream knew fully well how mean the universe could be, just as he knew how kind it could be. He had been blessed with the luck of respawning, had been blessed with the fact that his friends were just as lucky. Some people weren't nearly as lucky. He and his friends were lucky, but that didn't mean they were liked.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Darryl Noveschosch, Clay | Dream &amp; Dave | Technoblade, Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound &amp; Darryl Noveschosch &amp; Sapnap, Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MCYT December except it's not festive [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>148</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>being the lucky ones (isn't always good)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yeehaw, day 3 with the prompt "Minecraft mechanics (Respawn)" and, so far, probably one of my favorite days. This was supposed to only be about the Dream Team and how they don't fear respawning but I really had to pull SBI into this. It's a bit of a funky AU, considering that Phil is the emperor of the Antarctic Empire from SMP Earth, but I think I just wanted to write about SBI being royalty.</p><p>All characters used in this are based purely on their fictional personas. If any of the creators decide they are not comfortable with fanworks, this work will be taken down immediately to respect their wishes. I also ask that this work is not linked anywhere or intentionally shared with any of the creators mentioned.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Respawn was a fickle thing and Dream knew that as well as everyone.</p><p>There wasn’t a way to predict it, it wasn’t a science. It was based on chances and how people died and how many times they had died before and when and- It was based on everything anyone could think of. There was no way to predict when someone would stop respawning or if the respawn would take longer than before. Sometimes respawn took one minute, other times it took a month. Generally, anything over a month was assumed as permanent deaths and treated as such, but there had been cases of people respawning after years. Respawn terrified most people because there was no guarantee. If they died from something dumb like stepping on a berry bush or if they died in battle, there wasn’t a way to promise their return. The universe could be the kindest being or it could be the cruelest.</p><p>Dream knew that first hand. The universe was a cold thing with no remorse: He had watched his family get torn away from him, his sister screaming from her place in his arms as their childhood home burned to the ground. Both of their parents had been claimed by death and there was no getting them back. It was just him and his sister, making their way into a new life, in a new village. They had barely spent four days in the village before his sister was taken from him as well. The universe was gentle and kind as it was cruel. In that village, he met the son of a baker, a short but fiery boy who he immediately took a liking to. In that village, he met the son of a blacksmith, a boy bright and cheerful, scatterbrained but so cunning. He met them the day he lost his sister, the day they all lost their families because the village had been taken over in a raid.</p><p>George and SapNap both liked to play with fate as much as he did, though George was more hesitant and careful than him and Sap. They made up a game devoted to playing with their lives. They would wake up in their house in a forest- thousands of blocks away from the closest village, millions of blocks from the place that they met- and decide to play God a bit. They would play what they called “Manhunt”, SapNap and George chasing him as he tried to make his way to an End Portal. He had killed his friends hundreds of times, they had died hundreds of times to outside factors. He himself had been killed just as much as them, in the games that barely lasted a day or to the games where he tripped off of cliffs and couldn’t get his water out in time.</p><p>They respawned every time within the day.</p><p>There was never a doubt in his mind that they would always respawn, even when Bad joined their game, worried but addicted to the rush just as George had been. They had never not respawned in their years of playing the glorified game of cat and mouse. They were so lucky, so blessed by whatever ran the universe. He thought about it sometimes, late at night with George and SapNap doors away and Bad only a hundred blocks away in his own home. He thought about what would happen to them if it took someone a week, two weeks, a month to respond. He wondered what they would do if someone just stopped coming back. They all had lost so much already. Bad hadn’t told him but they all just knew when he stuck around. He was like them, someone the universe had screwed over with no mercy.</p><p>He usually ended up crawling into George’s or SapNap’s beds on those sorts of nights, visiting Bad in the morning as soon as the sun had burned all the mobs. The universe had granted him one mercy and that was his friends’ lives. Truth be told, he wasn’t quite sure how they had gotten so lucky, how they revived themselves time after time again from being blown up, from falling too hard, from drowning both in water and in lava. He’s coughed up blood on every one of his friends, has felt them cut through his chest or neck with tools made from every material imaginable. They’ve killed each other in the most ridiculous ways and yet they survive.</p><p>They’ve become addicted to the drug the universe pumped into their veins. They became trained and bloodthirsty, taking what they were given with greedy smiles and demanding more. More land, more materials, more power. It was a rush he got high off of, something potions and plants could never give him. He clawed his way to the top of the social hierarchy of a huge block radius, becoming its unofficial owner with George, SapNap, Bad, and a few others they had met along the way. His land, his territory. The nearest territory was millions of blocks away and there was nothing but open land, water, and forests between his land and theirs. Whoever they were, he didn’t know but he knew for a fact they knew his name. They most likely knew of George and SapNap as well.</p><p>He hoped they knew that SapNap was a pyromaniac who always had a flint and steel on him. He could rig massive fires in minutes and had burnt multiple forests to the ground. He knew what to light up, when, and the perfect time to bring out the carefully forged weapons he always had hidden on his person. Weapons he made himself with the skills he had grown up learning, weapons he gave to his friends for protection. He hoped they knew of George who enchanted all of their gear to the point it made them almost god-like, who was fluent in the Galactic that made up any and all books regarding magic. He was the ice to SapNap’s fire, colder and more easily avoidable but just as deadly. George may be smaller and seemingly weaker than everyone else, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t as brutal with a delicate sword that matched his thin fingers and small stature. He hoped they didn’t forget Bad. He knew everyone underestimated him with his sweet voice and adversity to swearing but they were fools, utter fools. The kindness masked a sniper’s eyes, his cloak hid a gorgeous bow and a quiver with too many different arrows. Bad was kind, but he was no idiot. He knew when courtesy could no longer be accepted and violence would be the answer. He fought unlike George and SapNap, he fought like he was a shadow. He never knew what Bad had been doing before they met, but, as he watched Bad switch between his weapons and move as if he were a dancer, he didn’t want to find out.</p><p>The stories about the four of them and their games were well-known, well-known enough that people started flocking to their lands. It was overwhelming to see people look up to him as a leader. He was the one who set the rules, the one everyone followed. He had fairly simple rules, mostly to keep the peace. Peace wasn’t something he was familiar with. Maybe in the past when it had been him, his parents, and his sister in their little farmhouse on the edge of a village. Maybe he had been a happy boy who had been scared of respawning, hiding behind his mother’s legs and being protected by his father. Whoever he was as a child had been burnt to the ground just like his house had been leaving only the unkillable monster that people seemed to see. </p><p>A monster, worse than the mobs that spawned on the daily. That’s what he was seen as, it’s why he was given the role of the leader. It’s why people flocked to his land, setting up villages and homes. After all, this was his land and almost nobody in the world wanted to fight him for it. Almost. He had gotten settled into his role as a leader, had continued with playing Manhunt, and, overall, being reckless when a little settlement had made its way onto his land. He paid no mind until the little van became a thorn in his side. Declaring their independence, announcing they would be fighting a war against him. He remembers being confused, lost as to who would try such a thing until he met them.</p><p>Eret. Fundy. Tubbo.</p><p>
  <em>Tommy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilbur.</em>
</p><p>He understood then. Maybe not the first two. Eret and Fundy didn’t have much to go off of. Eret had no ties to the group other than his own newcomer status. Fundy was Wilbur’s son and that seemed to be what tied him to the group, keeping him there with softly spoken lies of safety and peace. Tubbo, he understood. Tubbo was a lot like George. Smaller, kinder, but just as callous and cruel as his friends. He had nothing but sole devotion to his best friend even if it led to ruin. Dream had to give the kid props, he understood loyalty more than anything. Even if he and his friends constantly seemed to argue and yell, their true devotion was not to the land or the country they now ran, but to each other. Dream would let the entire world burn before he let the universe wrap its claws around one of his friends. It was much like how Tubbo allowed Tommy to drag him into a conflict despite the boy being so terrified of death.</p><p>Before this, Dream had already known Wilbur and Tommy. </p><p>Before this country, they had been in another land, one made of ice most of the year. He had been summoned by the Emperor as a request from one of the Imperial Highnesses. A duel, that’s what the other, then, teenager had wanted from him. His fighting prowess had become so renowned that a <em>prince</em> from a country he had never stepped foot in wanted to duel him. Of course, he had agreed. Even when SapNap and George grew anxious that this was some setup, even as they nearly froze attempting to get to the capital. As soon as he crossed into the capital, he was whisked off. It had been briefly terrifying, especially considering none of them expected the separation. Both George and SapNap had screamed, his blood freezing over at the sounds of struggling and calls of his name. Their separation was quick and the next he saw them was in the stands of the ring.</p><p>That was the day he saw Wilbur and Tommy. Both seated on either side of their father, crowns cushioned by the curls and waves of their hair, mouths curved into cheers for their brother. It was the day he met Technoblade, the middle son of the Emperor and his to-be rival. A new friend, he hadn’t realized at the time. A boy his age with pointed ears matching his older brother’s and hair that had been tied back in a braid. He wore a crown similar to his brothers, all gold and carefully perched on his head. He had been thrilled to have someone that would hold their own against him, having gone too long unbeaten. That day, he caught a glimpse of Emperor Philza, sitting in between his eldest and youngest son. He hadn’t watched most of the fights, his eyes trained on something. It had taken Dream a whole round and a half to realize what, or who, the man had been watching with his sharp eyes and curled mouth. </p><p>He had been watching George and SapNap, only turning back when he realized Dream was looking at him. All Dream had gotten was a satisfied smirk and the feeling that Emperor Philza knew more about him, about his friends, about why they did the things they did, than he could ever imagine. After the duel, he had thanked Techno and Philza for the invitation and duel and rushed his friends out the door, brushing past the two other princes without even a side glance. He had missed what he was sure was an incredulous look from them, though he didn’t miss the ones from the guards. At the time he hadn’t cared. He didn’t plan on letting stay here for longer than needed, didn’t like the knowing look that Philza had given him and the look he had given George and SapNap. </p><p>He was sure his rudeness against the two princes and his blatant disregard of Techno’s invites back to the country were what got him the cruel smirks, the rebellion, and the loud “<em>SUCK IT GREEN BOYYYYYYYY!</em>”</p><p>However, he could tell that these boys didn’t have the confidence in the respawn like he did. They avoided death at all costs, kept themselves alive with meticulous plans and tactics. Even when they fought, they rarely ever aimed to kill. Grazes that should have been deadly bounced off weaker than he knew they could hit him with, arrows hitting just low enough to not be fatal but high enough to hurt, potions never used. These boys feared death, feared never returning. Ironic, considering that their brother and father were angels of death with thousands of respawns under their belt. They, of all people, shouldn’t be scared of something as measly as death. They were like him, forged in battle and war, raised to breath in the smoke and ashes. </p><p>He thought they changed when Tommy offered him a duel, thought they weren’t afraid of dying anymore. It was almost sad, no longer being able to watch them scurry around like terrified mice. He had gone into the duel with a grin, his friends hooting and hollering behind him. They had come out victorious, Tommy having been killed by an arrow to the head, much to the horror of the boy’s friends and older brother. Maybe that’s when they changed or, at least, when Wilbur changed. Something about the man seemed different after witnessing his baby brother be killed so effortlessly, even more so after he returned. There was something cracked in Wilbur’s eyes. Not broken, but close to breaking.</p><p>It broke after the election. His eyes were shattered after the festival. They were empty during the final war.</p><p>They had all watched as Schlatt drank himself to a heart attack. They all watched as he didn’t immediately respawn. Nobody mourned the man, not openly. He was too hated, too despised. They would find out later that he wouldn’t ever respawn and that’s when the mourning would begin. They had a battle to fight first, one that Dream ended up surrendering for a brief time. SapNap’s eyes seemed to glow as everything went as planned, his fingers twitching for his flint and extra TNT. There was a speech and Dream watched as Wilbur left Tubbo to speak to the crowd. A grin curled on his face as Techno began firing at his younger brother and friend. SapNap drew his sword, Bad drew his bow and Dream drew his axe, all three feeling that same hunger in their bones. He and SapNap had screamed and cheered as the TNT beneath the city began to detonate, no doubt taking hundreds with it. They exchanged a high five before joining in on planting more explosives.</p><p>There was the roar of the Wither and they shouted in glee at the screams of terror. By now Emperor Philza had joined them, Emperor Philza had been the one to kill his eldest son, the heir to the throne. He had joined them with his eldest’s armor on his back and a bloody sword clutched between his fingers. Dream laughed at that, SapNap grinned almost ferally. They didn’t die to the Withers, nobody did, but the beasts had done their job. Techno had done his and Wilbur made good on his word. Dream was satisfied, even as he learned Wilbur didn’t respawn. He remembers staring Philza and Tommy in the eyes when they told him. He didn’t know what to say, nothing he could say would make it better. Perhaps it was because he had grown up with the knowledge that sometimes, people didn’t come back. He had witnessed it first hand with the death of his mother, father, and, later, sister. He had been the one to cause permanent deaths, had people clawing at his tunic and hood and screaming that he was a monster, a beast, that he shouldn’t respawn. He never had an answer to their cries.</p><p>He turned and left the two there, silent until the end. He didn’t have anything to say. Respawn was based on luck and Dream was so lucky. He knew that. He knew that because every day, he returned to the bright warmth of SapNap’s smiles and laughs. He was allowed to rest a crown on George’s head and kneel before him, his friend blushing and laughing in a pure sort of joy. He got to tease Bad, ganging up on him and annoying him just as much as Bad teased and annoyed him. He got to run from his friends every week as they fought to kill him, got to slay them in every way imaginable, and got to see them return, irritated but alive. Perhaps his and Wilbur’s lives had been reversed. He knew nothing of Wilbur and his past, knew nothing about the country Philza ruled, but the boy had been a prince. He had been blessed with nearly everything he could have wanted as a child, only for it to be torn away from him as an adult. He was sure there were hardships that Wilbur and the others had faced, but they seemed so different from the ones Dream and his friends had gone through as children. He thinks it has to do with the fact that the first time he laid eyes on Wilbur was when the man had a crown on his head.</p><p>A crown similar to the one Dream was getting thrown at his feet by Tommy.</p><p>He doesn’t remember the gems that had adorned Wilbur’s, but he knew the gems here. Aquamarine, sapphire, lapis in a beautiful silver crown. The same one he had put on to George’s head before the battle, before his one-sided discussion with Philza and Tommy. Next to him, SapNap gasped and reached down to snatch it up. All Dream could do was stare, hard, his axe drawn and pointed at the teenager. Tommy was so full of rage, he could see it bubbling beneath the boy’s skin. He wanted vengeance for a brother who had driven himself into the ground, wanted to spite the world for someone else’s luck, bad or good. Behind him, Philza watched. Dream didn’t say anything here either, just put his arm around the shaking SapNap and pulled him tight. He slid his axe into its sheath on his back and gently guided SapNap past the two of them. As he passed Tommy, the teenager spat out his final words. It was a simple message, one even Dream would never think of saying to anyone.</p><p>“<em>I hope he doesn’t respawn.</em>” </p><p>Dream ignored the way Phil screamed when he buried his netherite axe into Tommy’s skull.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>That's all for day 3! I had a lot of fun playing with how I wanted respawn to work and thinking about how it would affect society and whatnot. Comments and kudos are always appreciated so don't feel shy!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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